And This Time I Will
by kohee
Summary: Four times Barba does not kiss Liv, and the one time he does. Barba/Benson (obviously)
one shot; _four times barba does not kiss liv, and the one time he does_ _
_pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
word count: 3210 words  
note: was going to put this in the drabble dump as five different drabbles/pieces (or whatever), but thought, nah, this can be a stand-alone one-shot. Kinda. I don't intend for this to be in any kind of chronological order, but feel free to read it that way.

 _begin_

 _one: because stressful cases needs glasses of scotch (and scotch is always excellent in all circumstances)  
(and you really should've kissed her on the couch)_

It is late, and Barba is _still_ stuck at Liv's office, going over a case that he personally categorises as a lost cause.

It has been of those weeks, where every single minute of day seems to drag on, and everything seems to be going wrong. Cases are piling up, mostly unsolved, witnesses are not cooperating, defense attorneys are _particularly_ irritating, judges are _especially_ moody…just the kind of week that makes Barba wants to take his scotch to bed and stay there for 24 hours straight.

"This is it, Liv, we have to stop. My brain is officially incapable of functioning any further." He announces, standing up, stretching slightly.

Liv takes off her glasses and sighs, rubbing her eyes. "Yes, we should call it a night. This really isn't going anywhere."

"8am tomorrow then?" He asked briskly, gathering his files and snapping the clasps of his briefcase shut.

"Wait, Barba. Care to join me for a drink?" She stands up and retrieves two glasses from her shelf, as well as a good bottle of scotch.

"Well, you certainly know my vice." He will gladly stay for the scotch.

"I reckon we both could use something strong." She says, gesturing towards the couch in her office. They sit down, and she pours two glasses. She takes a sip, and then leans back, eyes closed. He takes a long, slow sip, scruntinising the dark circles under her eyes, and the exhaustion on her face.

He supposes he looks the same, to an extent.

This is what makes them the same; they breathe and live their jobs. Unhealthy, perhaps, but he doesn't know any other way. He suspects she doesn't as well.

"We're not going to win this one, are we?" She asks, her eyes still closed.

He's quiet for a while – he hates admitting defeat before the gavel is banged, but he knows as well as she does that the case is falling apart, with the inconsistent testimonies. But damn that he's giving up before it's actually over.

He shrugs. "You know me. Losing is not a word that I like to use often."

She smiles tiredly, and sits up. "I know you'll give it everything you've got, Barba." She rests her hand on his knee and gives it an absent-minded squeeze. She does not remove her hand after that, and Barba stares at it for a moment, and then looks at her.

She seems totally oblivious to the fact that she has her hand on his knee, and is sipping her scotch in an absent minded manner.

They've definitely touched each other before; her hand will rest on his shoulder if she's standing next to him, he'll put his hand on the middle of her back as they walk down the steps of the courthouse, their fingers have brushed when he hands her her coffee, but for some reason, this seems different.

Liv turns to him, intending to say something, but instead sees him looking at her with a funny expression. Suddenly, she realises she still has her hand on his knee, but for some reason, she doesn't feel like removing her hand.

Barba's gaze does not waver, and she finds herself leaning in, nearer to him.

She's so close to him, closer than she has ever been, actually. His eyes flits down to her mouth, and he knows he will be lying if he says he has not thought about it.

But he isn't ready to take the leap. He doesn't think she is, either. Barba has always been a pragmatic man. Practicality and reason _(almost)_ always wins.

He clears his throat, and averts his eyes, downing the remnants of his scotch. Liv's hand slips off his knee, and he doesn't see the fleeting disappointment in her eyes.

* * *

 _two: because you're a stubborn ass, and you should totally kiss after squabbling (except you never do)  
(yet)_

He can tell that she is not happy at all, the way she storms into his office. There are no pleasantries, as she stands in front of him, placing her palms on his desk, an irritated frown on her face.

"Barba. Carisi told me you won't issue the warrant."

"Correction. I _can't_ issue the warrant." He returns calmly, turning a page of the court documents that he is studying.

"Excuse me? We have DNA evidence, his prints all over the vic's door with _clear signs_ of forced entry. I should think that we have enough to build a case."

"Liv, please." He tosses the court documents onto his desk, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "She is in a relationship with him. They live together. He said he forgot his keys, that she wasn't answering the door or the phone, hence having no choice but to pick the lock."

"But…"

He holds up his hand, indicating that he hasn't finished. "I know what you're going to say, and to some extent, I agree with you, but I cannot convince a judge based on that."

"Was, Barba. She _was_ in a relationship with him. She ended the relationship two months ago! His actions constituted breaking and entering, against the will of the occupant."

"I'm sorry but what? Correct me if I'm wrong, but as far as I remember from the statement I read, the victim stated that they are still living together. How is entering _his own home_ breaking and entering?"

"The DNA evidence from his _semen_ …"

He shakes his head. "They were still sleeping together after the alleged break-up. The defense will tear that particular bit of evidence into pieces."

" _Alleged_ break up? You're supposed to be on the vic's side."

"I'm an ADA. I'm supposed to be on the side of the _truth_."

She makes an aggravated sound and paces around his office. "You know as well as I do that he's guilty."

"What I _think_ is completely irrelevant, Liv. I can't issue a warrant of arrest based on what you have so far."

He stands up and buttons his cuffs deftly, reaching for his suit jacket. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to court."

She blocks his way as he tries to stride past her. "Barba, you can be so fucking frustrating sometimes."

"The feeling is mutual, Liv." He snaps back.

She glares at him, eyes shooting daggers, and he suddenly realises how near she is to him. She's invading his space, her anger palpable, radiating off her in waves.

They stare at each other for a long moment, and they are so close to each other that he could hear and feel her breathing speed up.

It is so tempting to just pull her to him, and to kiss her, _really_ kiss her. To tangle his tongue with hers, and show her who has the upper hand…

But he doesn't. He takes a step back instead, and arranges his expression in his customary smirk. "Come back when you've calmed down, Lieutenant."

He then sweeps out of his office, not looking back, because he knows if he does, he may not be able to control himself.

* * *

 _three: because baby noah is really cute (therefore you really want to kiss his mother)  
(and she wants you to kiss her, too)_

She opens the door, her hair messy and falling out of its knot, looking extremely frazzled, and it's not a state he is particularly used to seeing her in.

"Sorry, Barba. Noah woke up and he's fussing now, so I have to settle him before we can get to work."

She steps aside and gestures him into apartment. "Make yourself comfortable in the meantime, there's scotch on the kitchen counter, and I better not hear any crack about my toy box being purely decorative."

He chuckles and steps gingerly into her apartment, looking amused at the toys littered on the floor. On a whim, he bends down and starts picking up the building blocks, stuffed toys and books, placing the items neatly into a huge wooden box in the living room. He also straightens out the couch and coffee table, clearing a space for them to work later.

Noah lets out an almighty scream from his room, and Barba winces. He wanders towards the direction of a wailing Noah, and peeks into the room to see Noah screaming as Liv rocks him, shushing him.

"I think he's hungry…can you hold him while I fix his milk for him?" Without waiting for him to reply, Liv holds out Noah to him, and Barba doesn't feel like he has any choice other than to take the child.

Uncomfortably, he shifts Noah in his arms, and starts shushing him the way Liv does. Noah's screams quiets down to some rather wrenching sobs as Barba pats him on the back. He remembers a Spanish lullaby that his _Mami_ used to sing to him, and quietly, he begins humming the tune to the sobbing child.

As he hums, Noah stops crying and looks at him with wide eyes, and he couldn't help but smile. Barba knows that he is probably the least paternal person ever, but Noah really is such an adorable child.

"Are you hungry, _mi amigo_?" He murmurs. "Be patient, your _mami_ is preparing your milk."

Liv walks in with a bottle, and blinks. Noah, who was screaming bloody murder mere minutes ago, is looking very contented, and Barba is _smiling_.

It is such a strange sight to see the ADA holding a baby – her baby – and actually smiling.

She clears her throat and puts down the bottle. "Barba, I'll take him now."

He carefully hands Noah to her, and she tips the bottle to his lips, only to have the child batting away the bottle with a yawn.

"Hmphh. Looks like he wasn't hungry, but just cranky". She carries Noah over to his cot and puts him down carefully. Noah yawns again as she wraps a blanket around him and pats him gently.

He watches her as she lulls Noah to sleep. Her expression is soft, something he doesn't see from her very often, and her eyes are so full of love for her son. It's a different side to her, a side that she doesn't show to anyone.

He suddenly feels a little uneasy, like he is intruding upon a very private moment between Liv and Noah, when she looks up and beckons him over. "Well, Barba, congratulations. It looks like you were the one to calm Mr Crankypants down."

He walks over to the cot, and leans down to see that Noah's eyes are tightly shut, his little face calm, his breathing even.

She lets out a little sigh. "It's not easy calming him down when he gets into one of his moods."

"You're doing great, Liv. He's…wonderful." He says quietly, as she turns to look at him.

"Means a lot coming from you, Counselor." She grins.

Their elbows are touching as they look at each other.

Her hair is messy, her glasses haphazard on her face and there is a food stain on her blouse, but he thinks she looks absolutely beautiful.

He thinks he wants to kiss her.

He _knows_ he wants to kiss her.

But he doesn't, as he tears his gaze away from her and straightens himself, gesturing clumsily towards the living room.

"I'll…just get the files together. You take your time, Liv."

Her face falls a little, but he doesn't see it.

* * *

 _four: because she wears a backless dress and sky high heels (and that makes you desperately want to kiss her even if it means you have to be on tiptoe or something)  
(and then you sort of kissed her but not really because you are stupid)_

He sees her across the room at the Governor's Ball, and as he catches his breath, he momentarily loses concentration altogether.

She's dressed in deep green dress that hugs her curves generously, and with a modest slit that shows off her rather spectacular legs. Her hair is done up in an elegantly simple chignon, and her makeup is smokier than usual, but still subtle.

She takes a glass of red wine from the waiter and sips it, and then she sees him, and gives a little wave.

She walks towards him, and he towards her, and they meet halfway in the middle of the room.

"Looking sharp, Barba." She gives his tuxedo an appreciative once-over.

 _And you look like a fucking goddess._

"Not too shabby yourself, Benson."

"Why are you not working the room? Forming connections, et cetera, et cetera?"

He grimaces. "Come on, Liv. You know how I feel about these events. I've talked to the Governor, the Mayor, the Commissioner. Everyone else is not worth my time. My list has been ticked off."

"You're such an ass, Barba." She snorts.

"Well, what about you? Has _your_ list been ticked off?" He sips his scotch and eyes her in amusement.

She shrugs. "Almost. I'm just going to hang around here for about 30 minutes more to make Chief Dodds happy, then I'm going to go home to Noah."

"Maybe we should keep each other company then. Might make this whole thing more bearable."

She raises an eyebrow. "We may end up fighting the entire time."

"Oh, believe me, Liv. Our fights are often the highlight of my day." He drawls, and she laughs.

She doesn't need to know how true that is.

o-o

They are both counting the minutes to the moment they could make their getaway, when Chief Dodds approaches them.

"Barba! Benson!" Chief Dodds says cheerily, his good mood clearly attributed to the glass of champagne in his hand.

Barba smiles politely as Liv engages herself in the obligatory small talk, when Chief Dodds suddenly nudges him.

"You should take Lieutenant Benson for a spin on the dance floor, Barba. Rarely do we get to see her as dressed up as she is now!" Chief Dodds bellows.

Liv looks startled, and shakes her head slightly, and Barba grimaces but they both know they have to oblige the Chief.

He steps back and holds out his hand. She glances at him, and then the Chief, and she takes a deep breath, and places her hand in his and they both glide out onto the dance floor.

"You're so going to regret this when I shred your toes with my heels." She mutters.

He circles his arm around her waist as she puts her arms around his neck in a rather disgruntled manner. They begin swaying a little to the music as she lets out a snort of laughter.

"I just realised that I am so much taller than you." She says smugly, and she's right. On her heels, she's positively towering over him, and he should feel self-conscious, but somehow he doesn't.

He moves his hand from her waist to her bare back, feeling the warmth of her skin, leaning closer to her.

"One song and five minutes, Liv, then we're done."

o-o

He walks her home after that, and sees her to her apartment.

She inserts her key into the door, and turns back to smile at him. She has taken off her heels on the walk home – she was happy to walk barefooted as she had declared her heels to be murder to her feet – and without her heels, she is his height, and they are eye-to-eye.

He finds that he actually likes this better.

"Good night, Barba. Thanks for walking me home. And for making the night pleasantly bearable."

She stands there expectantly, almost as if she is waiting for something.

He leans in closer to her, his hand hovering at her hips. Her eyes flutter close, and he is so close that he could feel her breath ghosting on his cheek.

At the last moment, he drops his hand and brushes her cheek with a quick kiss.

"Good night, Liv."

* * *

 _five: because you couldn't take it anymore and you just have to kiss her (so you do)  
(in actual fact, she kisses you first because she really wants to and she is tired of waiting)_

They are in his apartment, surrounded by papers and two take out boxes. They have been prepping all day, and this is one of the _good_ cases, with solid evidence, reliable and credible witnesses. The sort of case he loves, because he is going to win and the criminal is very possibly going to rot in jail.

"Okay, that's it." He surmises, making a final scribble in his file and then closing it with a snap. "I am done."

Liv yawns, and stretches, reaching for her wine glass and finishing the last of it.

"Well, that's a wrap, as they say." She stands up, and grabs her coat. "Get some rest, Barba, and I'll see you at the courthouse tomorrow."

"Okay, sure." Barba mumbles distractedly, as he is busy picking up the folders scattered on the floor. As he stands up, straightening himself, he bumps into her, and she momentarily loses her balance.

"Whoa!" He grabs her arm with one hand, and in the process of steadying her, loops his other arm around her waist.

"Thanks." She mutters, regaining her balance and moving to step out of his arms, when she feels his arm tightening around her.

She raises her eyes to his, and finds him looking at her with a funny expression. An expression of want. Fear. And she thinks she could see desire as well.

She places her hands gingerly on his shoulders, and moves nearer to him, her eyes on his mouth. She wants this. She really does.

All of a sudden, she feels the arm around her waist loosening, and she nearly growls in frustration.

 _Oh no, you don't_.

Shifting her hands from his shoulders to cup his face, she leans in, and presses her mouth to his, kissing him for all she's worth.

He tastes glorious, it's coffee, with the barest hint of scotch, he tastes so essentially _Barba_ , and she finds that she couldn't get enough of it.

He groans audibly, and he yanks her closer to him, running his hands up her back as he opens her mouth with his, slipping his tongue in, tangling with hers, and he couldn't think why he had ever hesitated.

"Liv…" He gasps.

"Shut up." She breathes against his lips, her fingers curling into a fist at the hem of his shirt. "Don't talk. We're done talking."

He laughs, and kisses her harder, kisses her like he's trying to make up for all the lost time.

When they finally pull apart, breathless and needing air, he looks at her as if he is seeing her for the first time.

"To think we could have been doing this all the time when we're going over our cases." He says.

"Don't worry." She murmurs, slipping her hands under his shirt and up his back. "I don't plan on wasting any more time."

"No objections from me whatsoever." He smirks, and kisses her again, as she responds just as eagerly.

He really could kiss her forever, and he fully intends on doing so.

 _end_


End file.
